as over. It took them
many weeks before they arrived at their destination.

There Tidy was soon resold, the trader making two hundred dollars by
the bargain, and she became the property of Mr. Turner, who took her to
Natchez, on the Mississippi River, where she became waiting-maid to Mrs.
Turner, his wife.

The poor girl was never the same in appearance after she left her
Virginia home. A deep pall seemed to have been thrown over her spirit,
and her hopes and happiness lay buried beneath it. Her disposition had
lost its buoyancy, and her face wore a sad, pensive look. She tried
to do her duty here as before, and her skill and neatness made her a
favorite. But there was no one here to care for her and love her as
Mammy Grace had done; and she missed the children sadly. Her hymn-book
was neglected; for when she opened it such a flood of recollections came
over her that the tears blinded her eyes and she could not see a word,
and she never now heard a prayer. She was again in an irreligious
family, and among an ungodly set of servants, and her faith, hope, and
love began to grow dim. A dull, heavy manner, and a careless, reckless
state of mind was growing upon her.

It required deeper sorrow than she had yet experienced to wake her up
from this sluggish, unhappy condition.

CHAPTER XIV. CRUELTY.

SHE was standing one beautiful evening at the front gate of the house,
leaning on the rail, and gazing listlessly up the street. She was
thinking, perhaps, of that starry night when first she had heard of the
name of God, or that other, when her faith had been so wonderfully built
up in listening to the striking experiences and prayer of the memorable
Lony. Perhaps she had wandered farther back to the time, when, under old
Rosa's protection, she had fed the chickens and watered the flowers at
Rosevale with childish content. Whatever it was, the tears would come,
and several times she raised her hand and dashed them away. Then she
turned her head and gazed the other way.

A large hotel stood nearly opposite the house, and across the narrow
street she watched the mingling, busy crowd of black and white, young
and old, coming and going, each intent on his own interests, each
holding in his heart the secret of his own history. Who are they all?
thought Tidy, what business are they all about? I wonder if they are all
happy? not one of them knows or cares for poor, unhappy me,--when lo!
there suddenly loomed up before her a f